


Lost and Found

by MidnightLoveStories



Category: The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Consensual Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Drama, Love, Married Sex, Mild Kink, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26545264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightLoveStories/pseuds/MidnightLoveStories
Summary: She hates the feeling of half-arousal that simmers elusively under her skin and no matter how much she tries she cannot just get there tonight.Mrs Addams is having a particularly frustrating evening. Rated M for adult themes.
Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams
Comments: 15
Kudos: 65





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was supposed to be light and humorous but my muse decided otherwise, my muse decided we're doing angst.
> 
> Shoutout to LittleObsession for her invaluable help and betaing this story!
> 
> Enjoy!

It is not often that Morticia Addams feels frustrated.

Well, that's not exactly true, she often feels frustrated in the most delightful of ways; her beloved husband makes sure of that.

She finds nothing delightful about her current state.

She hates the feeling of half-arousal that simmers elusively under her skin and no matter how much she tries she cannot just get there tonight.

And it is unfamiliar and, almost, unthinkable for her to feel this way.

Never. Absolutely never, in the course of their relationship, has she failed to… well… to come.

Her husband is, after all, incredibly skilled in the matter of carnal pleasures and knows what she likes and how she likes it and yet it seems that it is simply not going to happen tonight.

Tonight is not an issue of skill, she knows.

She almost feels like weeping in frustration.

The fact of the matter is that as much as she tries, she cannot, for the life of her, stop thinking. She seems unable to quieten her mind enough to concentrate on the matters at hand.

And it frustrates her beyond belief.

She is unable to stop contemplating how it bothers her - what seethes between them, that she feels necessary to walk on eggshells around him, anxious and hesitant to approach the subject. And she knows it needs to be discussed. Sooner rather than later.

How unlike them to behave this way.

She lets out a frustrated sigh and he lifts his head, from where it was nestled in between her thighs, watching her curiously, his eyebrow cocks in a bemused manner at her unfamiliar reaction.

"Darling, this isn't working for me," she finally breathes out.

He nods and kisses his way up her belly all the way to the column of her neck.

"Tell me," he encourages her and she is reminded how much she loves that about him. He is always an eager student when it comes to this and it arouses him when she tells him exactly what she wants him to do, when she urges her instructions in that low, delightful bedroom voice.

She can feel against her thigh just how hard he is.

"It's not you, it's just…," she pauses and almost winces at what comes next." I guess… I'm just...not in the mood," she declares impatiently.

"Since when do you have moods when it comes to this?" He asks facetiously but it irritates her nonetheless and, of course, finely attuned to her as he always is, he immediately picks up on it. His tone takes on a concerned note. "What is it, cara? This is not like you."

She frowns and bites her lips, hesitates for a moment before looking straight at him.

It absolutely disgusts her that after so many blissful years together, well over a decade of unbridled trust between them, she finds herself unsure, hesitant of how much she can share with him of her suspicions.

That his brother, or _whoever_ he is, has gotten in between them like a poison and, worse yet, that she has allowed it

That seeing her husband finally so completely happy, clouded her judgement for what was before her and she hates to be the agent of destruction of his happiness but to leave things how they are is unthinkable.

"I worry," she finally says and watches his forehead crease in a gentle frown.

"What is it that worries you, cara mia?" He asks lightly, placing a fleeting kiss on her lips, as if blissfully unaware of what awaits them, and it suddenly makes her feel even worse.

"I worry," she pauses, choosing her words carefully." If perhaps you're not seeing things for what they are," she says gently. "Or rather, for what they're not."

She can feel him tense, but he says nothing.

"What if it's not really him?" She asks bluntly.

She immediately regrets the loss of his warmth when he rolls off her onto his back and closes his eyes, pinching the space in between with the tips of his fingers as he lets out a tired sigh.

"Don't you think it's odd that he doesn't know so many things?" she prods, pulling the silk sheets over her naked body up to her breasts, as if the seriousness of the conversation required a certain amount of decent presentation.

"It's been twenty-five years, Tish," he says evasively but still doesn't look at her."He needs time to get used to everything, that's all."

"You said he doesn't remember your secret password or the code to the vault," she points out. Unable, now, to stop all of her suspicions spewing forth. Her desire to be tactful all but gone.

"And you said that it's probably nothing to worry about," he retorts, his tone a barely concealed annoyance."That he needs time to settle in."

"Yes well, maybe I was wrong," she admits." Maybe it is something to worry about," she continues and turns to her side, towards him."So many things just don't feel right."

"Like what?" he asks sharply, even though he knows.

"He's furtive and evasive," she tells him."Every time Wednesday asks him questions about the Bermuda Triangle he shuts her down."

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it."

"She's just a curious, little girl," she defends." There's no need to be so harsh with her," she insists and then forces herself to continue." Besides, don't you think that for someone who supposedly spent twenty-five years in the Bermuda Triangle he knows surprisingly little about it?"

He does not answer her but looks away in an abrupt, impatient manner.

"The other day I asked him about the time when he won the school science fair with his homemade explosive device," she says pointedly and waits until he turns his head towards her. "He didn't know what I was talking about."

"Perhaps if we all stopped interrogating him, it would help him to settle," he retorts pointedly, still barely looking at her.

"I was not interrogating him," she replies, immediately hating the defensive tone in her voice."I thought it would help him feel more at home with us if we talked about something familiar, that's all - "

"I think we should stop looking for problems where there's none," he cuts her off but then his gaze softens and he turns towards her, placing his hand on her silk-covered hip." You worry for nothing," he insists, placing small kisses along her jaw." And I have more pressing matters at hand," he murmurs against her skin.

"You must have noticed," she whispers and then adds firmly."I know you've noticed."

He sighs heavily and buries his head in the crook of her neck.

"Do we really need to discuss it now?"

"There's never a good time to discuss it."

She can feel his body tense with anger and he swallows heavily before lifting his head to look at him, his eyes burning with hurt.

"Tish, you don't understand - "

"I _know_ how important this is to you," she assures him, her voice unbearably soft but there is discernible steel behind it as well." I know what it means to have him back but chasing after illusions won't fix anything. It will not absolve you of your guilt."

But she does not understand, he thinks, no one can truly understand. There are simply no words to convey how much he needs his brother's forgiveness, how he longs to be redeemed and absolved from this guilt that has been consuming him piece by agonising piece all these years.

She does not fully understand what it means to him to hear Fester say that it is all forgiven, all forgotten. What it means to finally be able to tell his brother what was darkening his heart and soul for over two decades; how sorry he was, how pathetic, how he regretted it every single day. And here it was, this new chapter, for both of them, to expiate all the wrongs and to mend what was broken, to be brothers again. How can he let go of that?

Yet, there is the agonizing realization that she is right, as she always is, that he is clinging to illusions, he is clinging to hope because this illusion is easier than facing the reality. That the forgiveness he so longed for and was finally granted is worthless because the person who gave it had no right to it, it was never his to give.

He loathes her words. Loathes the fact that she has voiced out loud what has been simmering viciously in his subconscious for days and, for an agonising split second, he loathes _her_ for making it too real.

He longs to chase after illusions.

He kisses her, hard, and she moans, taken aback by the sheer force of his kiss but he needs it.

He wants to bury this anger and disappointment in her. He wants her to take this pain away from him in the way she always could; to transform it, to heal it and make it all better.

He needs it desperately.

His hands move almost unconsciously to her wrists and close firmly around the delicate skin until she gasps in pain and surprise and something that he knows is her unbridled lust and anticipation. He can feel her furious heartbeat and soft, elaborate breathing against his skin as he pushes his knee in between her legs, spreading her thighs forcefully. He lifts her arms, locking them above her head in a firm grip.

He is angry, and unbearably hard.

His chest contracts with silent rage as he presses his lips into the sleek skin of her neck and his hand moves in between the heat of their bodies as he plunges into her aggressively and she gasps, arching against him, lost in the sensation of this part-pain, and part-pleasure.

He lifts his head and watches her intently as he pushes into her angrily - desperately, and she is unable to tear her gaze from him. She moans her encouragement as he digs his fingers deeply into her hips, leaving the angry marks on her marble skin and his gaze burns into hers, the heady combinations make her head spin and she almost weeps with pleasure. She realizes then how much she wants him to burn his anger into her, to mark her with his rage and his wrath so that there's nothing left between them, nothing to separate and divide them.

She whimpers when he captures her lips into a violent kiss. He makes a sound that is somewhere between a moan and a howl as he lifts her hips and pounds her so hard she can barely breathe and feels instantly lightheaded before wave after wave of a white, hot pleasure crashes into her and she moans her release into his mouth and he follows her over the edge mere seconds later.

She can still feel her muscles contract around him when he presses his lips against her eyebrow and the sheer tenderness of the kiss feels startling at first, somehow out of place but then she relaxes into his cares and slides her fingers into his hair.

He rests his head heavily on her shoulder, his heart still hammering in his chest and they allow the moment to pass between them, silent and contemplating.

"I'm sorry," he breathes out even though he knows perfectly well how much she enjoys it. How much she craves and invites the demon within him.

But he is, above all, a gentleman and, try as she might, she cannot quite convince him to gift her the same pain she graces him with.

Except for the rare moments like this.

"I really want it to be him," he whispers, resting his forehead against hers and her heart almost shatters at the misery in his voice.

It was better when his brother was missing, it was better to wallow in guilt, to grieve for him and hope for him and his return than this. Than to have this wish granted only to be ripped away, to essentially lose him twice and twice as painfully.

"I know, darling," she brings him closer, holding him so firmly they feel like one entity."I'm sorry...maybe you're right… maybe he does need more time."

He smiles at her with sadness that is almost unbearable.

"No amount of time can make him someone he never was," he tells her dejectedly.

She swallows heavily and frames his face in between her hands.

"I want this for you," she whispers, pressing her lips against his."I want it more than I put into words, it's just - "

"I know, cara," he assures her. "I… I really don't know what to do now," he confesses miserably before biting his lips into a thin line."I know it's stupid and...hopeless, I guess. But I want to give him a chance. I want to make sure…," he pauses before continuing in a soft whisper."I need it, Tish, do you understand?"

She nods and kisses him tenderly.

She will give him a chance, she will give him the benefit of the doubt, despite her better judgement.

Only, she will make sure that Fester Addams or whoever this is, knows that to wrong her husband, to use him, to hurt him like this is an unforgivable offence. That she will feast on him, destroy and annihilate him in a way that no Addams has had anyone before.

Her family is everything to her.

And she will claw her way through anyone who dares to breach their sanctity.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading!**


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